


Devil's Dance (Prelude)

by JadeyKins



Series: Devil's Dance [1]
Category: Supernatural, Superwood - Fandom, Torchwood
Genre: Blood, Demon!Dean, Demon!Ianto, Knife Play, Knight of Hell Dean
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-23
Updated: 2014-05-23
Packaged: 2018-01-26 06:43:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,395
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1678547
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JadeyKins/pseuds/JadeyKins
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Crowley needs Dean to stay under the radar, but can't stay with him 24/7. So, Crowley introduces Dean to a new companion.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Devil's Dance (Prelude)

**Author's Note:**

> Assume that Cas and Sam know that Dean is a demon and so far Dean has eluded them. 
> 
> This bit was done fast, it may see some edits.

“Dean, I have someone I want you to meet,” Crowley said.

Dean refused to move from his position. He kept his feet propped up on what was probably a damn expensive table and his arms folded over his chest. A few hours ago, Crowley had demanded he sit still in the hotel room and wait. They’d barely avoided Sam and Cas yet again and both of them were getting damn irritated by his former brother and burning-out Angel of the Lord—which was a mockery of a damn title at this point considering the Grace Cas was using up wasn’t even his own anymore. Crowley had a plan, but he needed to go find his freaking ‘back-up.’ Another freaking back-up to everything.

After all these years, Dean should’ve come to expect that from the Once and Present King of Hell. Hey, that one was pretty clever. He was going to remember that later. 

Crowley brought a dark-haired man ‘bout Dean’s age before him. “This is Ianto,” Crowley said. “One of Hell’s acquisitions of recent years. If you’re going to be my first Knight, think of him like… my first Courtesan.”

“So like a hooker?” Dean asked. 

Crowley rolled his eyes. “Every once in a while he’s going to remind you how painfully ignorant of an American he is,” he said to Ianto.

“I’m right here.”

“So you are,” Crowley replied. He lightly tapped Ianto on the shoulder. “He is going to run with you for a while.”

“Thought this whole thing was going to be a me and you operation,” Dean complained.

“Well, in order to have an operation, I first have to secure our power base. You’ll play a part in that, Dean, have no doubt. But if you want to roam free and explore this new side of yourself, you’ll want to stay topside instead of being dragged around listening to me prattle on at underlings. Ianto here will be your companion.”

“I don’t need anyone,” Dean snarled.

“You do.” Crowley waited a beat to let that sink in. “You want to avoid your brother and that angel? You need to stay a step ahead of them. You still think too much like your old self, Dean. Now, you can either focus on dodging them all day and night, or—“ Crowley hooked a thumb at Ianto “—you can let him worry about them while you enjoy yourself.”

“I don’t see why you’re not sending your goons after them. Kill ‘em already.” 

“Because right now they don’t know you’re with me. Soon as I do that, then they’ll be summoning me yet again and asking more questions and this time I won’t find my lucky way out. So, stick with Ianto. Have fun. Don’t get caught.”

Dean rose to his feet and thundered, “I’m not a child!”

“No, you’re not,” Crowley replied. “So don’t behave like one.”

Dean didn’t like the tone in Crowley’s voice, but he didn’t have the chance to argue further with the King. The demon popped away before Dean could say anything else to him. 

So he was left with this Ianto.

“What makes you so damn qualified to babysit me?” Dean demanded as he threw himself back down onto the couch. “I’ve never even heard of you.”

“Perhaps because I don’t look at this as babysitting,” Ianto replied.

“Oh yeah? And what is it?”

“Opportunity.”

“You think, what, you get in good with the King of Hell by being the perfect lackey? Doing whatever he says?”

“No.”

The simple answers bugged Dean. He glowered at the other demon. The mark burned on his arm. A pain he liked now. A pain urging him to pick up that blade and strike. Human. Angel. Demon. Didn’t matter. Crowley could replace this toadie with another from his countless hordes.

“I think,” Ianto said, “that ‘getting in good’ with the King’s favorite Knight will help me secure a better position in the demonic hierarchy.” Ianto finally pulled his hands out from behind his back. He showed off a thin long wooden box. “I brought this for you.”

Dean snatched the box from Ianto’s hands and opened it. Inside lay a perfect steel blade. It had a sharp point and good curve. If he didn’t already have the First Blade, he’d like this one. Dean snapped the box shut and tossed it down onto the coffee table. “Already got a knife,” he said.

“You have a killing blade,” Ianto said. He bent over, opened the box, and drew out the steel knife. “This is for other purposes.” He held the blade out towards Dean, handle pointed at the Knight.

Dean took firm hold and yanked it from Ianto’s hand before the other demon could release the sharp edge. Ianto didn’t cry out, didn’t say anything at all. Blood dripped from his hand and he behaved as if Dean had peacefully taken the knife from him.

“Think you’re a tough guy, huh?” Dean rounded the coffee table and laid the edge of the blade against Ianto’s throat. This knife couldn’t kill the other demon, but he could still keep cutting into that flesh until the demon cried out or smoked out. Of course, a simple few traps and wards on strips of leather pressed against Ianto’s skin would prevent him from going anywhere. Was the ‘Courtesan’ so trusting and lax, so willing to be the perfect lackey, that he’d let Dean tie him up?

Dean pressed the blade against Ianto’s throat almost enough to cut. 

Ianto pressed himself against it that fraction more. A drop of blood slid down the blade point towards the hilt.

“You weren’t Alistair’s only student,” Ianto said. He hadn’t bothered hiding his demonic gaze before, but something shifted in the way he looked at Dean. Demon eyes had never been emotive before the transformation. Just a sign of evil, a sign of the inner being’s nature. 

Now, though, something sparkled in Ianto’s eyes. Something smart, something intelligent.

Something downright entertaining.

“You weren’t even his last,” Ianto continued. “You don’t even remember, do you?”

“Remember what?” Dean tilted the blade and more blood slipped from Ianto’s flesh. It dripped off the edge of the hilt towards the floor. 

Ianto grabbed Dean’s wrist, pulled the blade away from his throat, and then twisted Dean’s hand until a marking on the other side of the knife was exposed. A name, a demonic name, was carved onto the steel. 

Alistair.

“Your last day, when the Angel came for you.” Ianto let go of Dean’s wrist.

So much had happened in between then and now. While everything else from Hell remained burned into his mind, Dean never could reclaim those last few minutes. Even reaching back now, he had better clarity on so many things, but not anything beyond searing pain.

Except, before the mind-numbing memory gap, there had been a morning. Alistair gave him a new soul—a fresh new soul—for his rack and a few basic instructions.

Dean tilted his head and looked up from the blade. It was familiar now. How did he miss that? He hefted it in his hand, twirled it and let the blood fly off. It snapped back into place, back where it belonged, back where it had spent decades in Hell, and Dean grinned. 

He knew this blade. He knew why Crowley had brought him this demon. Not only a more recent demon, not only a pretty face, not only likely to be as ruthless and bloodthirsty as himself, but a fellow former student of the same demon.

Not just that either.

Blade in hand, Dean stepped closer to Ianto. He pressed the blade against the first of the vest buttons and cut it off. An echo of years ago.

As he cut away more buttons on Ianto’s vest and shirt, Dean whispered, “He told me I was close. I’d turn soon. All I needed to do was spend time with one more soul. But I couldn’t just torture it. He brought me a new soul that morning and told me I had to make myself a friend.”

“He told me he was giving me to his ‘best boy,’” Ianto replied. “That I’d be learning so much from his prodigy.”

Dean reached up and smeared the blood down Ianto’s neck. The red made more sense, made him more familiar.

“My last day. That was your first.”


End file.
